


What You Can't Get From Books

by SoulJelly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Library Sex, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: For the Good Omens Kink Meme: Anathema/Newt, library sex.





	What You Can't Get From Books

She's lost herself in the stacks again.

Anathema runs her fingers reverently along the book spines and clouds of dust roil in her wake. She's free of destiny and expectation but there's fear in that freedom, a sudden, sharp halt where the path has come to an abrupt end and she's free-falling with nowhere to go. So she comes here, where the shape and smell of books is a comfort universally familiar.

She's never gone long without the weight of a book in her hands. Anathema can't help but miss the book of prophecy and all its promises, Agnes guiding her gently towards where she needs to go. The books she picks up now aren't quite the same but still, they help. They take Anathema to different worlds, fantastical lands and outer space and timelines where things happened differently. They aren't newspapers scoured for events she needs to check off a list, or magazines with clues to the end of the world. They're just books, dived into and explored for nothing more than the pleasure of reading itself.

Anathema builds a city of books, pillars surrounding her at the old library table. This reading room is hers; no one seems to remember it exists. She's safe here, not thinking or worrying about what comes next, that great and yawning chasm. She reads and escapes, plunging into one book and coming up for just a moment before slipping into another.

She doesn't hear the door creak open, doesn't hear the rustling of fabric against the carpet as she flips another page.

Until--

A sudden kiss pressed against her thigh, the heavy fabric of her skirts being pushed into her lap, the awkward bump of a head hitting the underside of the table and a muttered curse.

"Newt?" Anathema whispers (always respectful of a library rules). "What are you doing?"

"Trying to be romantic," he mumbles, audibly wincing, rubbing his head.

She smiles, raises an eyebrow at this charming, hopeless man still hidden from view beneath the table. Anathema feels his breath, the kisses repeated again along the insides of her thighs, insistent now. She pushes back the chair and bundles her skirts in her arms and spreads her legs wide as they will go (only disrespecting library rules in exceptional circumstances) to welcome the warm, wet mouth on her clit.

"I miss you," Newton mumbles like a prayer against her skin, tongue tracing the time she's been gone - such a long time she realises, hiding here from the uncertainty of the world - and he's reminding her without words of the reality of what she has, his promises to love her and love her and love her, even if she doesn't know the way forward or what to do any more.

Anathema's breath comes in shallow gasps, hands forming fists in Newton's hair, grinding against him, his clever mouth and eager fingers and -- oh, she's going to fall apart like this, building and building, desperate for friction, chest heaving and hair askew -- and then she's crashing headlong into feelings she could never get from books.

And she knows how to do this -- how to pull him to his feet, press her lips to his smile (giddy and triumphant and full of so much love it almost hurts) if she knows nothing else at all. How to bunch her hands in his shirt and push him up against the stacks and grind up against him until they're moaning with abandon into each other's mouths. Fingers that caressed the spines of books now press urgently into him, his back, his shoulders, as she maps out the lines of him with lips and tongue. 

She knows that Newton knows, that he can always coax her back to him with this.

Because as confusing as reality is now, as long as Newt is there, Anathema doesn't truly want to leave.


End file.
